One day Miriam,
looking at me with her big black eyes, said:
"You must take more rest, dear, or you will make yourself ill."
"No, no, I am not ill," I answered, and then remembering how necessary
my life was to the life of my child, I said, "I must not be ill."
At last on the Saturday morning--I know now it must have been Saturday,
but time did not count with me then--I overheard Mrs. Abramovitch
pleading for me with her husband, saying they knew I was in trouble and
therefore I ought to have more time to find lodging, another week--three
days at all events. But the stern-natured man with his rigid religion
was inexorable. It was God's will that I should be punished, and who was
he to step in between the All-high and his just retribution?
"The woman is displeasing to God," he said, and then he declared that,
the day being Sabbath (the two tall candlesticks and the Sabbath loaves
must have been under his eyes at the moment), he would give me until
nine o'clock that night, and if I had not moved out by that time he
would put my belongings into the street.
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